Stripped
by MissScarletInTheLibrary
Summary: Lana is a hot-shot, high-end realtor, freshly arrived in Las Vegas. Roman Reigns is a Chippendale dancer with an easy smile and a body to die for. But Lana is too preoccupied with work, and is definitely NOT interested in this living god...at ALL...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I loved the sparks that flew between these two during their promo together last summer. As a result, I give you this random idea that popped into my mind and just won't quit. We'll see where this one goes. Please review and let me know if I should continue with it!**

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><p>"Who wants another drink?"<p>

"I will get them," Lana said quickly, scooping her cellphone up from the table and brushing imaginary creases out of her skirt. "Everyone will have the same again?"

A collective nod confirmed her query, the rest of the women too captivated by the action onstage to form words.

Lana exhaled deeply as she approached the bar, smoothing a hand over her hair, ensuring that every strand remained in place. She rattled off the drinks order and leaned against the bar, tapping open her email and scanning the contents of her inbox. She frowned at a rather snappy message, her fingers working rapidly to produce a cool, level headed response. The next message brought a smile to her face – she had finally closed a seemingly never-ending deal. This was a major accomplishment, but she expected nothing less of herself.

"I wonder why the beautiful lady is smiling," the bartender said knowingly, presenting the drinks to her with a flourish.

"I just closed a multimillion dollar deal on a property that was deemed unsellable," she announced proudly, taking the drinks and strutting back to her table, leaving the man standing there with a bewildered expression on his face.

"And I thought she was here for the naked dudes..." he murmured to himself, wiping down the bar.

"Aha, a smile! _Finally_, " Natasha beamed, accepting her drink and taking a deep gulp of it. Lana's cousin was definitely making the most of her last week as a single woman. She was getting married next weekend, and was the most relaxed bride that Lana had ever known. "You got an eyeful of that last guy, didn't you?"

Lana carefully placed the other drinks down on the table, amused. "No. I was more focused on the fact that I just closed a big deal. Honestly, it has been a worry these past few months. I am so relieved to wash my hands of it."

Natasha stared at her in disbelief for a moment, before shaking her head. "Of course you didn't gawk at the guy wearing nothing but a g-string. Of _course_ you had your head buried in that phone. No more! This is my night, I make the rules - now hand over your phone."

Lana smiled, her cherry red-painted lips curving gently. "Point taken, Natasha. I can't live without my phone, I'm aware of that, but I need it for business."

"Exactly, and now that you've taken care of business, it's time for _pleasure_." Natasha held her hand out expectantly, her empty palm facing upwards.

"You can't be serious, I'm not giving you my phone. What if I get an important phone call?"

"Then you'll take care of it in the morning," Natasha replied gently, stretching over to take hold of the cell.

Lana's grip instinctively tightened, unable and unwilling to let go of the device. It was too central to who she was as a person. Her whole life was on that phone. She couldn't bear the thought of not having it tucked in her palm, or her clutch, always within easy reach.

"Lana…please. If you can't do it for yourself, then please do it for me. I want us to have fun tonight. We deserve it."

Lana looked at her cousin's hopeful eyes, struck by her heartfelt words. She knew that she was a workaholic, often to her own detriment. In truth, she didn't want to be here. She didn't know any of her cousin's friends very well, and found it difficult to join in with their chatter about sex toys and men.

But…Natasha had always been her favourite cousin, the one who calmed her down when she took things too seriously as a child, the one who had stopped her from battering their cousin Sergei to death with a music box (because he was an absolute _idiot_) when they were six years old. Natasha had even welcomed her to Las Vegas a few months ago, and helped her adjust to life in America. She owed her this small favour…at the very least.

"Okay, okay, you can have it," Lana said gracefully, depositing the phone in Natasha's palm. She leaned back in her seat and sipped her martini, feigning casualness. "Now that you've seen the man in the g-string, what's next?"

"A fucking _stud_," a friend muttered. Lana hadn't bothered to keep track of their names. They were all different shades of the same colour – tanned brunettes who wore low cut tops and enjoyed talking loudly about their sexual conquests. "I've heard so much about this guy, he's the main draw here. Just _wait _until you see him."

Lana eyed the woman dubiously, wondering why she was practically panting. How impressive could a man be? And what would differentiate this next man from any other? Weren't they all just muscled males who slicked themselves up in baby oil and teased hordes of aroused women for a living? Did they possess any _actual_ skills?

"My body is ready," Natasha declared dramatically, causing the other women to cackle.

Lana smiled politely. She discreetly checked her watch, pleased to see that it was almost 3am. It had been a long night. They had started out that evening with dinner at a sushi restaurant, which really wasn't to Lana's tastes, but she hadn't commented on it. They then went to a piano bar, followed by a nightclub, and were now rounding off their celebrations by gawking at a group of nearly naked men. Natasha's fiancé had happily sprung for a private performance by the Chippendales as part of her last hurrah to the single life. To each their own…

The lights dimmed, prompting a chorus of excited squeals.

"Ladies, I know you've been waiting for him allllll night long, and I _know_ that you're more than ready for him," a deep voice intoned through the loudspeakers. "Please welcome Mr. _Roman Reigns_!"

Natasha flapped her hand excitedly against Lana's thigh, her eyes glued to the stage. Lana smiled her default smile, her eyes reflecting her puzzlement. It was _just_ a man.

A large figure emerged from the smoke onstage, still cast in darkness, but obviously built and in great shape. He was well over six foot tall, with extremely defined arms that were clearly visible, despite the shadowy outline. His hands appeared to be holding on to some kind of holster at his waist, his massive body not moving, even though his entrance music continued to pound loudly.

"Will he…dance?" Lana asked, unsure of what was happening. She had managed to skip most of the performance by offering to collect more drinks, or running off to the restroom to check her messages every few minutes.

"Oh, he better do more than just dance," another woman muttered, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

That response didn't clear up the matter. Was he going to talk, too? Have a conversation with them?

The lights suddenly hit, illuminating the man, revealing his entire body and face. Lana found herself staring, drinking in every detail. He was dressed as a police officer, the tight black half-sleeve shirt clinging to his chest, the top buttons open to offer a glimpse of his defined pectorals. He had beautiful skin, it looked so smooth, imbued with a caramel tone. His dark slacks did nothing to camouflage the firm thighs beneath. He was built very solidly. And rather beautifully.

His hands were resting on a holster, as she had guessed. A thick baton was sticking out, one of his gloved hands moving to stroke it suggestively. He had glossy black hair that was tied in a bun at the nape of his neck, peeking out from underneath his hat. It frustrated her that she couldn't see his eyes, they were hidden behind aviator sunglasses. She almost snorted – who wore sunglasses indoors? At 3am?

She wanted to laugh…but didn't. As ridiculous as the set-up was, as questionable as his _profession_ was, there was something compelling about this man. He had presence.

And then his hips began to move.

She tracked the hypnotic movement with her eyes, unconsciously wetting her bottom lip with her tongue. He moved fluidly for such a large man, his hips rolling naturally to the beat, making the women around her sigh audibly. Lana herself remained quiet. She was still, except for a minute shifting of her own hips, attempting to make herself comfortable. It was a difficult ask when that man was in her line of sight.

She felt stupid for reacting to a few thrusts of his hips. This is what they built their business on – making women believe that they had a chance with these 'dream men'. And she had just fallen into the trap…

She retrieved her martini and took a few quick gulps, averting her eyes from the stage. If she could get her hands on her phone, she would feel much better about this situation. It would provide a modicum of comfort at a time when she felt so out of her depth. The other women were sighing and groaning amongst themselves, grabbing each other's hands and sharing knowing looks. Lana couldn't connect to that.

Not looking at the man helped a bit. If she didn't stare at his body and didn't have to watch the way he moved it, then things weren't so bad. She felt like less of a freak for not being able to join in with the other women, or happily accept her feelings of lust for this stranger.

"Oh my _god_!" Natasha gasped, her hand rising to cover her open mouth.

Lana looked at her cousin, curious as to her sudden exclamation. She followed Natasha's gaze to find that the man was teasingly undoing the buttons on his shirt, opening it up ever so slowly. His chest was broad and extremely gym-toned, glistening under the lights, slicked up with a generous amount of baby oil.

Lana's breath hitched quietly, her eyes wandering down over his abs, suddenly wondering why he was still wearing pants.

"Wow, check out that ink," the woman beside her murmured, her finger pointing to the intricate tribal tattoo that covered his right pectoral and extended down to his right wrist. It was beautiful. Lana frowned at the woman's rudeness, unimpressed by such gauche behaviour - gawking and stabbing an index finger at the man - but she had to agree. Not many men could pull off something as elaborate and detailed as that tattoo.

"Yes, it's nice," Lana replied, fiddling with her pearl earring. She always knew that she was dependent on her phone, but never realised that it was such a social prop for her until that moment.

"It's a complete turn on, is what it is," Natasha sighed dreamily. "Oh shit, he's coming over!"

Lana stared, wide-eyed, as the man slowly made his way over to them. Although they had come to ogle him, the dynamic was now obvious - they were the prey. Her heart thumped in her chest, panic crawling up her throat. This was ridiculous. She was losing her nerve, and all because of a _man_. A _stranger_. Someone who took his clothes off in front of people for a living.

His easy smile, the kind that lit up his entire face, warmed them all as he sauntered up to them, pausing to stand in front of the group. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, his eyes scanning over each woman in turn.

"Good evening, ladies," he said in a deep bass tone. Lana killed the urge to shiver before it could even begin to travel down her spine. It was just a _voice_. "Or, I should say good morning."

The other women tittered, suddenly reduced to teenage girls, gazing up at him adoringly, playing with their hair nervously, eager to nod in agreement, regardless of what this man actually said.

"I've heard all about the trouble you've been causing all over town tonight. Sounds like you're gonna wake up with a lot of nice memories."

_Yes, and you unfortunately will be the most lasting memory._

Lana clasped her glass in both hands, forcing a smile on to her lips as the man made small talk, but not really listening to him. She was mortified by her reaction, by the unexpected physical response that he had provoked with apparent ease.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce yourselves to me? I'm Roman."

"I'm Natasha, I'm the bride," Natasha finally piped up, beaming at him. She rattled off the names of the other women, working her way up the line.

"And this is Lana, my maid of honour."

Lana's glass paused mid-way to her mouth, unsure of what to do next. She glanced up and found him watching her, still wearing that casual little smile.

"Hello," she pushed out stiffly, sounding frostier than she intended to, gulping down the rest of her drink. "…Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Lana. Where's that lovely accent from?"

Despite the dim lighting, she knew that he saw her flushed cheeks. "Russia," she muttered quickly, hoping that he would engage Natasha in conversation again.

He made a deep humming sound, the reverberations going right through her body. "A ravishing Russian. I hope you've enjoyed the show, Lana."

Before she could respond to…_that_ comment, he had reverted back to Natasha, who was smiling prettily and laughing along with his playful talk. Lana tried to act casual, tapping her Louboutin to the beat of the music that continued, allowing her eyes to roam around the room, purposefully avoiding the man to her left.

She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him move away from the corner of her eye, thinking that he had completed his charm offensive for the night. But apparently not…

Roman shrugged off his shirt as he sauntered to the other end of their group, stopping in front of a particularly eager young woman (Tiffany? Brittany? Lana couldn't recall), before he started to dance for her. The woman fanned herself as she watched him sway, his muscles flexing with every smooth movement.

"Did she pay him for that dance?" Lana asked, her brows furrowed as she observed the scene.

"No, this one's on the house for my bridal party," Natasha replied, throwing her arm around Lana's shoulder. "He's going to share his skills with every single one of us. We're very lucky girls."

Lana didn't feel very lucky right then. She wanted to get out of there, away from this man who was far too attractive for _her_ own good, and back to the safety and familiarity of her apartment. She didn't need him to dance for her, teasing her with everything that she couldn't have, reminding her of how uncomfortable she felt in this situation.

Her anxiety soared as he got closer and closer. The other women were reveling in the attention, taking pictures and whooping, one even going so far as to take off his hat and perch it on her own head. Lana wished that she had another martini to hand.

Roman finally stopped in front of her, smiling that strange little smile that he seemed to reserve especially for her. She reluctantly looked up at him, feeling somewhat resigned, hoping that the inevitable would be over and done with quickly. Unsure of what to do, she placed her hands in her lap, nervously wetting her lips with her tongue. If she could maintain a cool façade, then this wouldn't be so bad.

He moved into her personal space, leaning down to place a large palm on either side of her, watching her with a sexy grin. He was so close, mere inches separated their faces. Her heart continued to pound out an erratic, unsettling rhythm. She tried to keep her cool, choosing to focus on his eyes now that she had an unobscured view. They were an unusual shade of light grey that stood out in contrast to his tanned skin. As she had begun to expect, they were beautiful. Just like every other part of this man.

He had been so flirtatious with the other women, allowing them to touch him and flirt back unashamedly. That didn't come naturally to Lana, she preferred to keep most people at arm's length. He remained still, assessing her intently. Was it his intention to freak her out? Because it was working.

But…maybe it would be nice to have his attention lavished on her, to feel special for a few short seconds. Natasha's friends had thoroughly enjoyed themselves and couldn't wipe the smiles from their faces. If anyone needed to smile more, it was Lana. Perhaps it was time to follow Natasha's advice and…lighten up a bit.

Assuming that he expected her to take the lead, she slowly raised her hand, preparing herself to lightly touch his hip. The skin there looked especially soft, in spite of the ripped muscle that lay beneath. Her fingertips were about to graze it, her lips _finally_ finding that smile that all the women had enjoyed, when he whispered, "Maybe some other time, Lana."

Lana's mouth dropped open as he backed off and instead directed his attention to Natasha, who looked as confused as Lana felt. She had been about to participate, to play along with the expected narrative, but he had just…brushed her off. He hadn't turned down any of the other women – so why her?

She knew it was rude to gawk as he went to work on Natasha, whispering something in her ear that made her eyes open wide, her mouth curving into a small grin. Her hands smoothed over his chest and shoulders, apparently at ease with the man that had just shot down her best friend. That fact merely served to jack up Lana's embarrassment.

As desperately as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't excuse herself without drawing even more unwanted attention. She had worked so hard to blend in with the décor all night long, refusing to cackle gleefully while leering at the men, but when she _finally_ mustered up the courage to join in, she had been pushed right back down into her place without much fanfare. So, instead, she sat silently as he fawned over Natasha, while deliberately ignoring the whispers and pitying looks from the rest of the group.

He finished his act by pressing a soft kiss to the back of Natasha's hand, winking at her before moving away to retrieve his pants and shirt that had been discarded on the floor. The women gave him a rapturous round of applause, several getting to their feet and calling out for an encore. He laughed at that while tugging on his clothes, not bothering to button up the shirt.

Lana's preferred frosty exterior had returned, her defensive barriers firmly back in place. They were her only chance of surviving this humiliation. She idly twirled the ring on her finger, feigning a sudden interest in the large diamond that sat atop the band. The show was over, it couldn't be much longer before she got to go home. However, from the sounds of it, the others weren't inclined to let him slip away that easily. It was impossible to tune out the sounds of their laughter and lively conversation, his tone distinctive amongst his female company.

"Let's get a group picture!" Natasha yelled over the ruckus, motioning for everyone to gather close and pose. "Lana! Get over here!"

Lana's head shot up, finding them all staring at her expectantly. She joined them without a word, standing at the edge of the shot until Natasha dragged her front and centre, pushing Roman between them. Lana tensed up when she felt his hand land on her waist, forcing a smile until they were satisfied with the photos.

"You girls wanna grab a drink with me and the rest of the boys? One final nightcap?" Roman asked, the words barely out of his mouth before the women hastily agreed, following him over to the bar like his own personal harem.

Lana grabbed her cousin's wrist gently, holding her back for a moment. "I'm going to go home, I have to get a few things done at the office tomorrow."

"But tomorrow's Sunday…" Natasha said, searching Lana's face with a look of concern. "Won't you stay for one little drink? And then we'll all grab cabs together…"

"No, I really must go," Lana insisted firmly, her tone soft, trying to reassure her cousin. "But thank you for tonight. It was action-packed and so eventful. I hope you had a good time."

"I did," Natasha nodded, unable to hide her smile at the memories of that evening. "Are you sure this isn't about what happened with Rom-"

"Thanks again, I'll see you soon." Lana pulled her in before Natasha could continue, dropping a kiss on each cheek. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

Lana strode toward the exit, cursing the layout of the club as she did so. She had to walk by the bar, offering a small wave to the other women as she swept by. She didn't want to look at him, but wasn't fortunate enough for her wish to be granted. Those grey eyes locked with hers, an unreadable expression in his, countered by a vulnerability that she despised in her own.

She tore her gaze away from him and ducked out of the room, grateful to be able to escape at last. Tonight had been relatively fun, right up to the point where he had made her feel _this_ small.

Luckily, she would never have to see Roman Reigns ever again.

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><p><strong>AN: Do you want to read more?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Woahhhh, thanks for all of your reviews! I'm so glad you all love the chemistry between Roman and Lana just as much as I do. **

**Enjoy :)**

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><p>"Lana? There's someone on the line for you."<p>

Lana had been striding purposefully toward her office door, but stopped abruptly with apparent ease. She prided herself on being completely in control of her body at all times, even when wearing four-inch stilettoes.

She arched an interested eyebrow at her assistant, "Oh? Who is it?"

"It's a…Roman Reigns. He says it's important."

A rosy blush suddenly bloomed on her cheeks, in spite of her air-conditioned surroundings. The self-control that she prided herself on was quickly evaporating.

He was the last person she had expected to hear from. What did he want? To tell her to never return to his place of work? To really drive home the fact that he was repulsed by her? As if his very public display last weekend hadn't been enough of a hint.

"Tell him I'm in a meeting," she replied briskly.

They may have been in his domain that night, where he called the shots, but she was back on her turf now. She didn't have to do anything that she didn't want to do. Embarrassment wasn't something that Lana suffered lightly. It sank into her bones and remained there for a long time, she wasn't one to quickly forget personal slights. As far as she was concerned, Roman Reigns could go take a long walk off of a very short cliff.

"Alright…Mr. Reigns? I'm sorry, she's not available right now. She's in a meeting. Can I take a message? You have her phone? I'll be sure to tell her th-"

"_What_?" Lana burst out. "He has my phone? Transfer him."

She pushed into her office, leaning against the door when it closed behind her.

Well, wasn't this an interesting turn of events? Although the thought of speaking to him made her stomach churn, she desperately needed that phone. She had been without it since that night at the Chippendales show, when Natasha enforced a highly unnecessary technology ban. When Lana had asked for it back the next day, Natasha had sheepishly informed her that it had gone missing…but that its disappearance had _nothing_ to do with the extra shots she had knocked back with Roman and his boys.

Ordinarily, Lana would have dismissed a missing item and replaced it herself. But…this was her phone. It was practically her child. All of her personal and work information was on that iPhone. Even though she had backed it up on the cloud, she missed the reassuring weight of it in her palm.

All of this spurred her to walk over to her desk, settle into her plush leather chair and pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

Once again, her tone was cool and composed. If she acted civilly, she could have her phone back by that afternoon.

"Hey Lana, it's Roman Reigns here." She could hear his smile, his deep voice relaxed. It wasn't difficult to imagine that beautiful smile.

"Hello, Mr. Reigns."

"You got out of that meeting pretty quick, huh?"

Lana scowled, biting back an acidic retort. He _did_ have her phone, after all. It wouldn't be smart to unload exactly what she thought of this man after his antics on Saturday night.

"You told my assistant you have my phone. I thought it was gone permanently."

"Uh, yeah. The cleaning crew found it on the floor after the performance."

"That was good luck. How did you know it was mine?"

He was silent for a moment, his soft breath the only sound on the other end of the line. "The phone is set to Russian, so I mean, it was pretty easy to figure out…"

Something was off about this. Sensing a weakness, albeit one that she couldn't _quite_ pinpoint, she decided to pursue it anyway.

"And how did you find out where I work?"

"…Google. You may not have been here very long, but you've certainly made a splash. If you type 'Russian Lana Vegas' into a search engine, you get some very interesting results…it was pretty easy to pick you out from the rest."

Lana huffed, unimpressed by his smooth self-assurance. Didn't he ever get riled up? Or have his feathers ruffled? She didn't even want to _think_ about the other results that he had found. Those Lanas were probably in a profession similar to _his_.

"Well, thank you," she pushed out stiffly, the words unfamiliar in her mouth. "I'll have my assistant send a courier over to you right now. I will cover the expense, of course."

Sensing that the end of the conversation was quickly looming, Roman broke in, "No problem. And you don't need to do that, I'd be happy to deliver it personally. I want to make sure that it gets back to you in one piece. You free to meet up later this evening?"

Lana's mouth dropped open in shock, mouthing a silent protest. She hadn't expected him to propose that. At all. For a man who had purposefully avoided contact with her the other night, he was certainly eager to see her. She couldn't understand his request, turning it over in her mind for almost a full minute until he spoke up again.

"You still there?"

"…Yes."

Memories of their first encounter flooded her mind, bringing back the burning humiliation that had accompanied his rejection. If it were for any other reason, she would promptly make up an excuse and go about her day. But…she really wasn't in a position to say no. That phone was important to her.

Squaring her shoulders, she quickly formed a plan.

"I will be at Lit tonight at 7.55pm. Meet me outside. You can return the phone then."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, his tone playful. "I'll see you later, Lana."

"Goodbye."

She didn't wait for his response, quickly replacing the receiver with a now damp palm.

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><p>Lana examined her reflection in the mirror, turning her face this way and that, smoothing her fingertips over her skin. There. Perfect. She hadn't had time to change before leaving the office, but that didn't bother her too much. The fitted red skirt and business jacket would blend right in with the other young professionals that frequented this place.<p>

Her blonde hair was pulled back into a neat bun, not a strand out of place. She checked her lipstick one last time, ensuring that the bright red colour hadn't stained her teeth. Part of her knew that this fussing was merely delaying the inevitable, but she couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for her meeting with Roman Reigns. The man apparently wanted nothing to do with her, and yet had actively sought her out in order to return her phone. Was he just a particularly good Samaritan? Even if he was a rude man otherwise…

Glancing at her watch, she sighed softly and reluctantly made her way to the front entrance. It was a balmy night in mid-October, the bite of winter not having yet descended on the Vegas evenings. Normally, this would be where her phone would come in useful as a social prop. She felt naked without it. Instead, she clasped her purse in both hands and leaned back against a column, keeping her eyes focused on the sky. Strangers were less likely to approach her if she didn't give them an opportunity to make eye contact.

"Lana?"

Her body tensed slightly at the sound of his voice. He was so close. How had a man of his size snuck up on her without her noticing? She slowly turned to her left, finding him standing there in a black dress shirt and matching black slacks. Her eyes zeroed in on his shoes, which looked to be Italian and expensive. The man obviously took pride in his appearance, and with genetics like his, why wouldn't he?

"Hello," she said, using the smile that she reserved for clients with an extremely high net-worth. They were always charmed by that smile. Deciding that this little interlude would go better if she attempted to be polite, she kept the smile and tried to maintain an upbeat tone as she offered him her hand. "Thank you for meeting me tonight."

His gaze flicked down to her hand, accepting it in his larger, much warmer one. He squeezed it gently, holding on for a few seconds longer than necessary.

"It's my pleasure. I know how important phones are these days, people store their whole lives on them. And yours seems to…mean a lot to you."

Lana nodded, discreetly rubbing the palm that he had touched, which was still warm and tingling from his grip. "Yes… Can I have it now please?"

He seemed taken aback, as if he wasn't expecting her to get straight to the point. "Sure. Just one quick thing first, I was wondering if-"

"Lanaaaaaaa! Hey!"

Lana's head spun around, a wave of gratitude washing over her when she spotted Natasha skipping toward her. Yes, literally skipping. That's what brides did the week of their wedding, apparently. She hugged her cousin tightly, happy that she had asked Roman to meet her before their get together. Now she could get her phone back and dismiss him, all in one fell swoop. Perfect.

Natasha turned to Roman, her eyes wide and happy. "It's you!"

Roman smiled and nodded, "It's me."

"What are you doing here?" Natasha asked, looking between the two of them. "Wait – did Lana invite you? _Did you invite him_, Lana?"

The brunette looked as if she was one second away from giving her a high-five.

"He found my phone, he's returning it," Lana stated quickly, eager not to delay too much longer. "So…."

Taking the hint, Roman pulled the phone from his pocket and handed it over. Lana let out a very un-Lana-like noise of excitement, causing both Natasha and Roman to raise their eyebrows.

She tapped in her passcode, oohing and ahhing over her contacts and notes.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, looking into his beautiful grey eyes, forgetting about his previous dismissal of her for a moment. "Thank you for bringing it back to me."

"Not a problem," he shrugged casually, clearly amused by her reaction.

"Well…goodbye."

"Roman? Is that you, man?"

Lana frowned at the interruption. What now? Who was next to make a cameo in their evening?

Their group turned to find Baron, Natasha's fiancé, approaching them. He caught hold of Roman's hand and pulled him into a one-armed 'bro hug' (Lana was still picking up the uniquely American slang), a huge smile on his face.

"Dude! How ya been?"

"Good, good," Roman grinned. "I heard congratulations are in order."

"Yeah, I finally got my shit together and popped the question," Baron smiled, sliding an arm around Natasha's waist and dropping a lingering kiss on her lips. "Luckily for me, this babe said yes."

"He's right, luckily for him," Natasha said, winking at Lana and Roman.

"So, what brings you here?" Baron continued. "Hold up. You're not here for a repeat performance, are you? Because I was down with Saturday, thanks again for that by the way, but this woman is off the market as of this weekend. You better back off, Reigns."

Roman held up his hands in defence, "Nah, nothing like that…although if your girlfriends ever need a repeat performance Natasha - call me."

Lana couldn't help but notice that the offer hadn't been directed at, or intended to include, her. That fact didn't surprise her, but it still stung.

"Lana misplaced her phone the other night, I was returning it."

"You're just a regular white knight, aren't you?" Baron chuckled. "As if your looks weren't enough, you got that chivalrous thing going for you too."

Roman shrugged modestly, choosing not to answer.

Lana was becoming antsy. She hadn't expected any of this additional making nice, and was eager to get on with her evening. She and Natasha were due to go over last minute details, knowing that everything was in place, but still wanting to go through the motions for the sake of tradition.

"Thank you, Mr. Reigns. Have a good evening."

"Hold up, Lana," Baron quickly broke in. "You got any other plans, man? Why don't you join us? The ladies here are going to pore over seating charts and hors d'ouevres, even though they took care of everything _months_ ago. I could do with some male company. What do you say?"

"I'm sure Mr. Reigns is a very busy man…" Lana insisted.

Roman stared at her evenly as he gave his answer, "I'd love to spend the evening with you."

This was going to be a _very _long night…

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><p>Lit was the perfect mid-week after work spot. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, the sounds of laughter and animated conversation filling the place. Although it catered to young professionals, it was a surprisingly comfortable space, with worn wooden tables and a drinks menu that appealed to their clientele's nostalgia for their college days.<p>

Lana found it to be very…homey. She was confused by the contrast between the sharply dressed customers, and the informal environment in which they were unwinding. This evening wasn't going as she expected. She hadn't pictured herself sitting next to Roman Reigns, the man who had rudely opted out of her lap dance, but who had been happy enough to cater to the fantasies of every other woman there that night. The same man who had then apparently tracked her down in order to return her phone, an unusually kind gesture from a man who didn't have the stomach to get too close to her otherwise. It was all very confusing. And uncomfortable.

"I want to dance," Natasha announced suddenly, depositing her empty wineglass on the table. "Come dance with me. You have to do that now, you're going to be my husband."

Baron shrugged good-naturedly, instantly setting down his tumbler of whiskey. "Your wish is my command. I know how this works. Happy wife, happy life."

They eagerly moved toward the dance floor like a couple of love-struck teenagers, their hands all over each other. They were an extremely tactile couple, Baron always stroking the small of Natasha's back, while she was forever playing with his hair or massaging his shoulders. As per usual, Lana couldn't relate. She didn't like to be touched. Even though he wasn't touching her - not that he _would_ - Roman's close proximity was even too much for her right then. He was so _big_. He took up so much _space_.

"I'll be back," she said, picking up her clutch and phone.

"Where are you going?" He asked curiously, turning in his seat to face her.

"To…the bar," she explained, unable to move now that he was staring at her.

Why was he still here? Yes, he and Baron played on the same football team at the weekends, but her iciness all evening couldn't have made this too much of an enjoyable experience for him. She was putting so much effort into working this man out. It was exhausting.

"I'll come with you," he said, easing out of his chair and making his way through the throng of people.

Lana followed him, noticing how the crowd seemed to part especially for him, several pairs of eyes tracking his movement, some displaying envy, others an obvious lust. What was that saying? He was the type of man that other men wanted to be, and the type of man that all women wanted to be with. It summed him up perfectly. Well, with one small exception - herself. She didn't want to be with him, not when he so obviously did not want to be with her.

His bulk allowed him to easily find an opening at the bar, leaning on it casually while he perused the drinks menu.

"What are you having?"

"A red wine."

When the bartender approached, Roman ordered two vodkas.

Lana pointedly looked everywhere but at Roman, wondering why he had inquired about her tipple of choice.

"How was work?"

The question caught her off-guard. She hadn't realised that they would be making nice when Natasha and Baron weren't around to bear witness.

"It was…good. I closed a deal over the weekend, we finalised everything today. I'm happy."

Roman smiled wryly at her. "Are you? You don't seem very happy right now. You seem a little…tense."

Lana's body stiffened further, her hackles rising at his words. She was tense on a good day – but when forced to spend an extended amount of time with a man who had embarrassed her publicly? Well, then she was downright _furious_.

She slowly turned to face him, dropping the mask of neutral discomfort that she had worn all evening. A small smile curved along her own lips, her eyes narrowing.

"I do? Perhaps it is because a man who humiliated me in front of others is sticking his nose where it does not belong, and will not take the hint and _leave_. But no, for some reason, he is enjoying this game of his, poking at me, making his opinion of me _very clear_. I _get_ it, Mr. Reigns. We all do. So, instead of continuing with this charade, why don't you go find some company that you _do_ enjoy keeping?"

Roman stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth hanging open slightly. He had decided on his choice of words, but wasn't given time to articulate them when Natasha and Baron returned, all bright eyes and flushed cheeks.

"What are we drinking, man?"

The bartender reappeared and set out the vodkas.

"We'll take two more," Roman instructed, handing the shot glasses to the couple.

"What are we toasting?" Natasha asked, glancing between Lana and Roman, sensing the atmosphere that had grown in her absence.

"Lana closing a big deal this week," Roman answered, passing a shot to her.

Lana frowned, accepting the drink without a word. He was proposing a toast to her after she unleashed her wrath on him? He probably wanted to keep his nice guy image intact now that they had company once again.

"I'm so proud of you," Natasha said, holding up her glass. "You work insanely hard, never take time off, and get shit done. Thank you for agreeing to be my maid of honour. You've kept me calm and made everything go seamlessly."

Lana's smile was genuine. "It has been my honour. You're the closest thing I have to a sister, and I wish you both nothing but happiness."

"Oh my god, you can't say stuff like that on Saturday, it's going to fuck up my make up," Natasha laughed, wiping at her eyes and pulling Lana in for a hug.

"Is this a preview of what's to come on Saturday?" Baron asked, groaning and palming his face. "I can't deal with all of these _emotions_. I need to go drink a few beers and build a shelf or something."

"You'll deal with it, and like it," Natasha smiled smugly.

"No, I need more dudes at this thing. We've gotta stick together."

"Then Roman should come," Natasha replied, her eyes lighting up. "Hey Roman, you want to come to the wedding?"

"Uh, sure," Roman answered, clearly surprised. "I mean, if it's not an inconvenience. I'll have to cut out after the ceremony for a little bit, but I could make it back for the later part of the reception. I've got a show that night."

Lana felt the blood drain from her face, impressed that she was still standing and not keeling over in shock. Well. Of course this was happening. Roman Reigns was somehow managing to ingratiate himself into every aspect of her life, without her permission. Why should the wedding be off limits? She gulped down her shot and slapped it down on the bar.

"But what about the seating plan? And guest numbers? They have all been finalised. It would be impossible to make changes at this late stage."

Yes! One last thread of hope to cling to. Lana felt quite proud of herself for her quick thinking. Brides _detested last _minute changes, anything that could potentially ruin their special day.

"Well…" Natasha dragged out the word, making an awkward face as she looked at her cousin.

"Well….what?" Lana asked, frowning. Was Natasha intentionally trying to make her uncomfortable on a permanent basis all of a sudden? The woman had a heart of gold, but Reigns simply did not need to be there.

"You've got a plus one, Lana," Natasha reminded her gently, her tone softening. "And you haven't invited anyone."

Lana refused to look away. She would only be confronted by a smirking pair of grey eyes if she did. She could _feel_ him watching her, likely having a good laugh at her single status. He would never have the same problem. He wouldn't even have to _try_ to find a date. He could probably point at a random woman in a room, tell her a date and time, and be guaranteed her company at the relevant event.

She was thankful for the dim lighting in the room, hoping that it camouflaged the worst of her burning cheeks.

"He could be your plus one," Natasha finished quietly, trying to cushion the blow.

This was the second humiliation she had suffered in front of Roman Reigns in just a few days. He was a bad omen. A negative influence. An arrogant man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

Regardless of her personal feelings toward him, she had to set them aside. It was the stoic Russian in her. Her emotions were not for public consumption. Her dislike of this man was not a topic to be discussed right now. It was Natasha's wedding, it was her day. Lana had been by her side since the engagement, planning and strategising, supporting her whenever she needed it. This weekend was the fruit of their efforts, a time to be enjoyed. And so it would be.

Nodding stiffly, she forced a smile on to her lips. "Of course. That makes sense. Mr. Reigns will be my plus one."

Knowing that she would have to spend several more hours in close quarters with him on Saturday, she turned to face him. It was time to practice good manners.

"Thank you, Lana," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "We're going to have a _lot_ of fun together."

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><p><strong>AN: Lana and Roman need your reviews! (I do too ;D)**


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